


Service with a Happy Grimace

by fiercy, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Chris Hemsworth and Henry Cavill [22]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), Superman RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:11:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6532801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiercy/pseuds/fiercy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Chris Hemsworth/Henry Cavill storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG <a href="http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read">Citadel</a>. If you're interested in joining, please contact the mods as listed <a href="http://citadel-info.dreamwidth.org/995.html#cutid1">here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Service with a Happy Grimace

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Chris Hemsworth/Henry Cavill storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read). If you're interested in joining, please contact the mods as listed [here](http://citadel-info.dreamwidth.org/995.html#cutid1).

Waking up beside Chris and knowing that no one is going to have to run off in the next few hours, or the next few days, or even a few weeks, is heady stuff. Henry considers disturbing Chris's peaceful sleep by waking him with a long, slow make out session with his cock, but he settles instead for lying there watching him. That's better anyway, before they embark on what Henry believes will be an epic month of new experiences together, and epic declarations of love and passion. Sometimes he just has to take a breath and realize it's all real. He's taken one very small step out of the closet. He's in love with a man who is beautiful and rugged and strong and tender in equal parts. His career has taken off. There's little--if anything--to worry about.

Starting to stir, Chris turns, dropping his arm over Henry and pulling him closer. His boy's soft chuckle wakes him a bit more and he opens his eyes to find Henry staring at him. "How long've you been awake?" he mumbles, stretching his toes out to the bottom of the bed.

"Hours and hours, just waiting for you to arise and take me," Henry says dramatically, leaning in to kiss him gently. "Or perhaps just a few minutes, watching you sleep. Is that creepy?"

"No." Chris smiles, reaching up to slide his hand into Henry's hair, pull him back down for another kiss. "I'd watch you if I woke up first."

"That might be horrible if I drool or sneeze in my sleep," Henry murmurs against his lips, still smiling. "Good morning, Sir."

"Good morning," Chris says with a smile. "I do believe I promised to let you hurt for me today."

Delicious dread describes the feeling that overtakes Henry at those simple words. The hair stands up on the back of his neck and he moves a little closer. "Yes, Sir, I believe you did."

"And were you hoping for one scene or for me to use you the whole weekend?" Chris asks.

"Your will, Sir. I hadn't thought beyond one scene, but if you'd like me the whole weekend I'll bow to your wishes."

"I think I like the idea of the whole weekend," Chris decides, watching Henry. "So, I want you to go and make us some breakfast while I shower. I want you naked the entire weekend. The only time you can put on clothes is if you need to answer the door or if you're out on the back deck and then you can wear jeans or shorts but nothing under them. When we're finished breakfast, you'll have your shower and prep really well. Every time I use you, you'll make sure you prep again. If you're not prepped and I want to use you, you're going to be out of luck, and it's not going to change my plans for the rest of the weekend. You're not to come without permission, you're not to leave my side without permission, and you're to let me know if it gets to be too much by telling me yellow."

Henry's listening carefully for content from the moment Chris says, "I want." He swallows hard when Chris is done, a low, slow flame igniting in his belly. His lips part as his breath comes a bit faster. "Yes, Sir," he finally answers. "I understand. Thank you." _Christ_ , it feels so good to get this from Chris, from the man who loves him.

"Good. You can use whatever's in the kitchen to make breakfast," Chris says, leaning in to kiss Henry before he pushes back the covers and heads for the bathroom.

Henry watches him go for just a few seconds because--hello--nice view! But then he's up and moving, already planning breakfast based on what he thinks that Chris will have. "Eggs, some sort of meat, some sort of fruit and toast, of course," he mutters to himself, for the moment ignoring his half-erect state.

Chris takes a fairly long shower, making sure he gives his boy lots of time to start preparing their meal. His cock is ragingly hard, various scenarios for the day ahead playing through his mind, but he ignores it, determined that when he comes, it'll be inside - or on - Henry.

Henry isn't a great cook, but he's not precisely bad. The eggs and sausage are cooked through, and he didn't forget the salt and pepper. He'd had to make the toast twice because he'd forgotten to check the setting on the toaster, and the strawberries, well... they're kind of just piled in a bowl.

Still... he manages to have it ready when Chris reappears and he turns to grin at him. "Fairly sure it's edible, Sir."

"Glad to hear it," Chris says, still busy adjusting the tie on his navy boardshorts, his white tee pulled up to reveal a wide swathe of perfectly tanned skin. He grins at Henry. "Have a seat, and pull your chair up beside mine." Another time he'll think about handfeeding but he's still too tired to deal with it right now.

"Yes, Sir," Henry answers easily, getting the plates on the table and doing just that.

"Did you burn something?" Chris asks, sniffing the air. The food in front of him all looks okay though.

"The first pieces of toast were a bit too done, Sir, but they're out in the back feeding the birds," Henry says with a smile.

Chris laughs. "Lucky birds," he says, giving Henry a kiss before digging into his breakfast. "I never give them anything."

"Well, it was either that or waste your bread and I figure that wouldn't be good," Henry points out, starting in on his own breakfast.

"No, it's good you did," Chris says. "Maybe they won't crap on my car in return." He grins.

Henry chuckles, but concentrates on his breakfast, a low hum of anticipation distracting him. "I'm nervous," he finally admits when the third bite goes down a little harder than it should.

"About this weekend?" Chris asks, swallowing a piece of sausage.

"Yeah," Henry answers. "It's the longest I've ever been in role, of course, and I don't know what to expect. But I'm excited. It's a good nervous, really."

"Good." Chris smiles. "If you're feeling uncomfortable or you need to ask something more detailed, you can always call yellow for that too. This is sort of more about us learning _us_ , if you know what I mean."

"Yes, exactly. Getting to know us. I like that." Settling back down to finish his breakfast, Henry peeks up at Chris through his lashes. "A confession? Sometimes when we're together I look up and there you are and I'm just so...mind-blown. I just love being with you."

"Is it cheesy if I say I feel the same way?" Chris asks, smiling over his coffee at Henry.

"Terribly," Henry drawls back at him. "But then we do seem to revel in the romantic." Of course, there's also the non-romantic. The absolutely sexual. The _need_ that drives him when he's near Chris.

Henry clears his throat and shifts in his chair.

"Are you eager to get going?" Chris asks, his smile widening. "If you've had enough to eat, you can go have your shower. Follow the rest of the orders I gave you."

"Yes, Sir," Henry says with a grin, jumping up from the chair and heading toward the bathroom. His shower is thorough, and the time he spends prepping afterward is just as thorough.

Chris cleans up after breakfast. There's not a lot to do. Mostly just putting everything in the dishwasher. But he's already hard, aching, unable to will his erection away, his thoughts constantly straying to his plans for his boy. But finally he settles in the living room, reading the Saturday paper, a fresh cup of coffee at hand while he waits for Henry.

When Henry finally pads into the living room, squeaky clean and thoroughly prepped, his attitude has shifted. It's not about him anymore or what he may get out of the next two days, and he hopes that frame of mind sticks. He's not sure whether to kneel when he comes into the living room, but that seems like the most respectful thing to do and so he settles down in front of Chris, trying for his best posture.

Letting the top of the paper drop, Chris takes a good long look at Henry. At his boy. "Good," he says, shifting a little in his seat, his cock stiffening anew. "You can give me your mouth," he orders, setting his paper on the cushion beside him.

"Yes, Sir," Henry says softly. Inside he's throwing himself a little party. "Thank you," he adds, crawling forward eagerly and starting in on Chris's fly. He moans as he takes his cock into his mouth, swallowing almost his full length on the first drop of his head. He backs up, then, and begins to apply more finesse, moving a little closer to get a better angle.

Chris slides his hand into Henry's curls, a soft groan of appreciation and satisfaction spilling from his lips. "Good boy. That's it."

The praise and the visceral sound of arousal have Henry sinking just a little further into the headspace that had begun in preparing himself for Chris. He's determined that no blow job he's ever given will compare to this one. That there will not be a moment when he doesn't give every single ounce of energy he has to his dom.

He moans around Chris, sucking hard while pulling off with a pop before taking his dick sideways in his mouth and working from root to head, over the tip and down the other side. And then it's back down again, to the back of his throat.

Both hands now threading through Henry's hair, caressing his scalp without pressure, Chris curses softly under his breath, pleasure coursing through his veins. "God yes. Such a good boy..."

Henry's suddenly pretty certain he could live on nothing but Chris's words. He groans, deep from his core, suddenly possessed with a wanton abandon that has him launching into a frenzied sensual assault on Chris's cock. He's mad for it, though he's careful to keep up his technique, licking him all over before bobbing up and down on him like someone is trying to take away the privilege.

"Oh God," Chris groans, his hips bucking against Henry's mouth, unable to control himself at this point. "God, yeah, that's it," he breathes, his balls tightening, the ache in his cock spreading, flushing through his entire body. And suddenly he's there, right there, spilling hot and heavy down his boy's throat.

Letting Chris's come fill his mouth before swallowing it down is a privilege of which Henry takes full advantage. For the moment it's hard to breathe, but he doesn't care. He keeps sucking Chris's cock until it stops pulsing in his mouth, and then begins the task of cleaning Chris up, lapping at him until he's pristine.

"Good boy," Chris murmurs, groaning softly as Henry finally pulls back. "Give me a kiss," he orders, bending forward.

Licking his lips, Henry rises up, mouth parted to welcome Chris. He murmurs unintelligible sounds of pleasure when they part to breathe, adrenaline and need still coursing through him.

"There's a small box in my closet, top shelf, right hand side," Chris murmurs against Henry's lips, reluctant to pull away completely. "Go get it."

"Yes, Sir," Henry answers, smiling at the order. He stands and goes in search, running his hand over the smooth wood of the box and letting the small tumbler lock dig into his thumb when he finds it. He's back in front of Chris within a minute, trying not to be rude in his curiosity. The position has always felt a little odd to him, but he kneels in front of Chris and offers it up on two hands.

Chris takes the box from Henry and sets it on the couch beside him, opening it so the lid faces his boy, hiding its contents. "I think we'll use these," he says, picking out a pair of alligator clamps, "and this," a heavy metal ball stretcher, "and these," several weights in different sizes to hook onto the ring on the stretcher, placing everything in front of the box so again, they're kept from Henry's eyes. He takes a deep breath, contemplating the contents, then nods and closes it back up. "I think that's it."

The tension is rising within Henry as he watches Chris's face, listens to his murmurs and _wonders_. His cock is still heavy and flushed, his arousal having lessened not a bit since he'd prepared himself according to his orders. Now there's an evil glint in Chris's eyes and he shivers, delicious dread filling him.

"Cold?" Chris asks, noticing the shiver.

Henry grins up at him. "No, Sir. Anxious. In a good way."

Chris grins back. "You look so good like this, on your knees for me," he says, reaching out to run his fingers over Henry's chest, teasing his nipples into rigid peaks.

Henry lets the compliment wash over him. "Thank you," he answers with a smile, responding to the nipple play with a long, luscious moan.

"But I bet you'll look even better hurting for me," Chris murmurs, reaching for the first clamp. He lets Henry see it before he closes it over his left nipple, the tension tight but not so tight he can't leave it for a fair while.

Henry's breath catches hard at the bite, his body--just for an instant--folding inward. He straightens himself quickly, recovering his posture, breathing through the pain.

"You like that?" Chris asks, casually teasing the clamp with his fingers.

"Yes, Sir," Henry answers, following up with quick sound of pleasure. The pain is fantastic. That Chris is playing with him like a toy has him flexing his muscles hungrily, his cock leaking at the tip. "Like when you use me to entertain yourself," he admits.

"Then you're going to love today," Chris murmurs, eyes sparkling as he places the second clamp and gives it the same treatment, fingers twisting and tweaking Henry's nipples.

"Fuck, Chris," Henry murmurs, welcoming the endorphins flooding his system. Welcoming Chris's attention even more. Swear to God he'd just lie there and let Chris use him as a foot rest just to revel in the closeness. But Chris is giving him a whole lot more and Henry pushes his shoulders back, offers himself up to be that toy. 

Noting each and every nuance of reaction, Chris just smiles, dropping one hand to cup Henry's balls, rolling them in his palm before squeezing lightly, his other hand still playing with Henry's nipples.

Every touch to a clamp is like a spark, whereas the hand to his balls is grounding. Chris is a master at this, it's like balancing the flavors of a fine dish... just the right amounts of pain and pleasure, attention and detachment.

Squeezing a little harder before he finally relents, Chris reaches for the stretcher. He pulls Henry's balls down low in the sac and snaps the metal closed around the top. "There you go. How's that?" he asks, sitting back. He wants to see how Henry handles the stretcher alone before he starts adding weights.

Henry glances down, trying to get a look at his balls. The pain is tolerable. Not really pain so much as pressure at the moment, though he anticipates that's going to change. He licks his lips. "It's strange, actually. I'm not sure how to describe it." His words might be ambiguous, but when he raises his eyes to look at Chris, he imagines it's clear he's starting to float away.

Chris nods. "Let me know when it gets to be too much," he says. It doesn't mean he'll back off, not unless Henry safewords, but he wants to keep the communication open between them, especially while he's _still_ learning his boy.

"Yes, Sir," Henry answers. There's a moment for him in every encounter when things switch from theory to practice in his psyche. When "this can be done to the human body" becomes "this is about to be done to me". It both excites and terrifies him, though the latter only lasts a little while, at least until he can weigh the cruelty of his partner. He has a feeling Chris is about to push him further than they've gone together before and he's got that trembly feeling of delicious dread going on. He swallows, clears his throat...and there's always the waiting.

"Good." Chris smiles and clips on the first two weights, one on each side of the stretcher.

Never has Henry been so aware of his balls. The stretcher itself is heavy, the edges unforgiving though smooth. But the weights? Christ! He moans softly as his skin pulls and a dull ache begins, but the pleasure is much stronger than the pain at the moment.

"Kneel up for me," Chris orders, waiting until Henry's done so before taking his balls in his hand and kneading them roughly.

A rough sound drags from Henry's throat as pain rockets through him. Breathing harshly, he drops his head to watch Chris's hand. That beautiful, huge hand that's constantly bringing him new levels of both pain and pleasure.

It hurts, and he wants more.

That responsiveness. It's incredible. And it spurs Chris on, making him want to see just how much Henry can take. But pure pain... that's not much fun, so he wraps his free hand around his boy's cock, stroking slowly as he squeezes even harder.

Oh shit. Henry doesn't know whether to come or cry. The question is settled for him when a single tear escapes the corner of his eye and slides down his cheek. The choked sound he makes morphs into a long, stuttering moan that ends with a harsh intake of air. "Sir!" he forces out, his head spinning, his heart pounding, his cock aching and sending shafts of pleasure through him.

Chris releases both balls and cock and sits back. "Yes?" Picking up another set of weights one size larger.

"Yes, please, Sir," Henry forces himself to answer. He watches Chris's hands like they're holding a torture device about to be brought against him . . . and then, of course, he realizes they are. Unbidden images flash through his mind, groaning at his own thoughts of a filthy, steaming dungeon and Chris with a red-hot poker. He shudders hard, the weights on his balls shaking and drawing another pained moan.

"We might leave it at these ones," Chris says, adding the weights to each side of the stretcher, the combined weight on his boy's balls now somewhere in the range of a pound and a half and that's not even counting the stretcher itself.

"Ye..." Henry swallows, his breath coming in short hitches as he gets used to the feeling that his balls are about to pop off, that the skin of his sack is going to split right in half. He tries again. "Yes, Sir." And then he looses another of those moans he hadn't known he was capable of, a low, deep guttural sound.

Eyes flickering between Henry's balls and his face, Chris drags his nails across the stretched skin of his scrotum.

Henry's cock jumps wildly and his eyes pop open wide. He can't believe his cock _can_ jump when it's weighted down as it is, and it _hurt_ , but only for a moment, because the endorphin dump that's just happened has him smiling stupidly.

"There we go," Chris says, smiling back, giving Henry's balls one final squeeze before he sits back again. "Crawl to the kitchen and back."

Henry's head swivels, his eyes still a little wider than usual as he measures the distance between where he is now and where he's supposed to go. He takes a few short, quick breaths, swallowing as he drops to his hands and knees. He groans, the abrupt movement swinging his balls, and he realizes this is going to take a while. A long while. He glances up at Chris from the corner of his eye, nods, whispers a "yes, Sir" and begins to move.

Each shift forward of hands and knees is a new lesson in sensation stacking. He knows he needs to keep moving, but his thigh keeps bumping his cock and everything sways (including his head) wildly. It takes a few adjustments--which he makes without pausing--and he ends up with his head bowed low, his legs open wide and his ass arched high. Soft grunts of pain accompany him, like a symphony of response.

"Good boy," Chris calls out, impressed by the way Henry adjusts to what's asked of him. Watching his boy, his cock starts to harden again, almost as if he never came in the first place. God. It makes him feel like a teenager all over again. "All the way and then back to me."

The praise settles over him like a warm blanket, and the encouragement is good. Needed. The ache in his balls is like nothing he's ever experienced. He bends lower, until his chest is just clearing the floor, spreading his legs a little more as he gets to the kitchen. He takes a moment to breathe, but pivots before too long, searching Chris's face for the first couple of movements toward him. He looks so far away. Then he has to drop his head, has to concentrate.

"Does it hurt?" Chris asks when Henry's close enough for him to do so without raising his voice.

Henry nods, clears his throat and tries to speak again, though it's muffled, his head still nearer the floor than Chris. When he gets closer, though, he forces himself up. He crosses the last few feet with his head and shoulders higher, stopping in front of Chris, groaning from his gut as his balls swing to a stop.

"How much?" Chris asks, reaching out to cup Henry's jaw in his palm, caressing his cheek with his thumb. "Rate it on a scale from one to ten."

It's not a sharp pain, it's just a constant, deep ache, and Henry swallows as he tries to decide on an answer. "S...si...seven. It's about a seven, Sir," he murmurs.

Chris nods. "Then we won't put any more weights on," he says, dropping his hand to Henry's chest, his fingers caressing the clamps again, playing with them.

"I... I can take it, Sir." He doesn't mean to argue, but he wants Chris to know.

"I know you can," Chris assures him, "but I'm going to keep you in them for a long time today and seven's going to seem like a nine or ten by the end." He smiles, giving the clamps another twist before he nods at the coffee table. "I want you to stand up. Bend over and brace yourself against it."

"A long time... yes, Sir," Henry says looking up at him and suddenly grinning. He rises to his feet with a groan, the grin becoming a crooked, pained smile, and this his position over the table. His balls need to settle down now, thanks. Another groan leaves him as he spreads a little wider.

Chris echoes that groan as he eyes his boy's hole, eyes his balls hanging, tight and stretched and swollen between his thighs. He drops his board shorts and lines up, rubbing the head of his cock over Henry's slicked hole before pushing in, hard, sinking deep with that first thrust and trusting Henry keep himself braced.

Easier said than done. The pain is excruciating with that first thrust, between his balls and his unstretched hole. It throws Henry off his game for a few seconds. The room is swimming in front of his eyes and his senses are narrowed down to an assault on his baser senses. He can smell the sex, smell Chris and the sounds from him and from his fucking perfect lover is driving him down into a deep, dark hole. He whines, pushing back against Chris, wanting desperately to put a hand under his balls and relieve the weight, just for a little while.

Cursing softly under his breath, Chris grips Henry's hips in his hands and keeps on thrusting, setting up a steady pace, in and out, his boy's body staying tight under his, the pain urging every muscle to stay clenched.

The tears took about three strokes to come. Now they're streaming down Henry's face and his hands are gripping the table so tightly he can see his veins. His cries are strangled and are sometimes elevated to shouts and near screams, but he holds his place, sinking deeper, further away.

His rhythm kept steady, Chris leans forward, bettering his angle as he reaches under his boy and snaps free the first nipple clamp.

There's a stab of pleasure and then it's completely swamped by a wave of pain. Henry screams, digging his fingers into the table as if he could break through. An enormous dump of endorphins washes over him and he goes silent but for harsh exhales of air and groans that come from below his level of consciousness.

Chris falters, stilling for a moment as his cock pulses violently, the clench of Henry's body threatening to shove him over. He breathes through the contractions, keeping his eyes shut, his hips locked against Henry's ass as he waits for the moment to pass.

Everything's stopped, just for a minute. Henry's only vaguely aware of the pounding ache in his balls, now. Everything's filtered through a layer of comforting cotton. He listens for Chris, reaching out of the abyss to hear something, anything. His breathing is enough. Chris is there, inside him, taking care of him even as he tortures him and Henry lets go of the tether again. Floating.

"One more," Chris murmurs, having pulled himself back from the edge. He thrusts in again, removing the second clamp before dropping his hand back to grasp Henry's cock, counter the pain he feels shoot through his boy's body. 

Henry's cry is more like a strangled, quick moan. The endorphins flood as soon as the pain hits and he suddenly smiles a drunken, lazy smile. Everything relaxes and he groans from deep in his chest.

"Good boy." Chris keeps thrusting this time, riding the edge towards his own release, his hand working his boy's cock. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?"

It takes a few seconds for the words to filter into understanding. Henry's arms are shaking with the effort to hold himself up. His voice is leaving him and he's covered with sweat. Come? He's not even sure he can, but he's going to try for his dom. "Yes, Sir," he forces out.

"Good." Chris changes the angle again, making sure it's absolutely perfect as he strokes Henry's cock in time with his thrusts, wanting him there, right there, with him. "Do it," he orders, feeling himself going over. "Come with me," he growls, every muscle straining as his cock pulses hotly again and again.

At first Henry isn't sure he's going to be able to do it. And then he's there. There's too much going on between his stretched balls and Chris's hand on his cock for him to spend anytime thinking about it all. Instinct takes over, and he's suddenly shooting all over the table beneath him, giving out a strangled scream.

God. Chris tilts his head back, staring blindly up at the ceiling as the clench of Henry's body milks every last drop from him. He curses softly under his breath, releasing Henry's cock and rubbing his hands back over his boy's hips, gentling them both.

Head hanging, knees still shaking, his mind is still gone. He's ever aware of Chris, though. Of his hands on him. And somewhere, in the back of his mind, of his desire to please.

Easing out, Chris steps back and takes a seat on the sofa, tugging gently at Henry to encourage his boy to join him.

Henry stumbles backward, falling half onto his lap and half onto the sofa. His balls feel like they're about to fall off and there's white noise rushing through his ears. He curls around Chris, unaware at the moment that he hasn't really been given permission for that.

"Hey," Chris says softly, wrapping his arms around Henry and pulling him in even closer. "You were so good for me. Such a good boy." Whether the words make sense to Henry right now or not doesn't matter, it's all about the tone, all about making sure his boy knows how proud he is of him, how much he loves him.

Henry burrows in. Chris is warm and strong and reassuring. There's gentle sound rumbling from him and there's a tether there that lets Henry let go. He shifts and a shaft of pain from his balls brings him up a bit, but not enough to mind.

"You can lay down however you need to," Chris says, suspecting he'll have to say it again later, when Henry's come up more. He'd been tempted to take the stretchers and weights off now but that might be unfair to Henry, assuming his boy can't take this for longer.

It's a slow rise through the thick honey of subspace that Henry's buried under. When his eyes finally flutter open, he rubs a hand over his eyes and looks up. And there is Chris. His rock. "Sir," he murmurs. He moves to stretch out and winces slightly at the pull to his balls, but it's manageable.

Chris smiles, rubbing a hand over Henry's shoulder as he settles. "Do you need anything?" he asks.

"I'd give my left nut for some water right now, Sir," Henry says with an ironic tilt to his lips.

Chris laughs. "I'll be right back," he promises, easing himself out from under Henry with another quick kiss before he heads for the kitchen, making the journey there and back far faster than Henry had. "Here you go," he says, shifting back into his spot and handing over the water.

Henry takes the bottle and drinks half the bottle lustily. "Oh my God, that's better than sex at this particular moment in time," he gasps. "Thank you, Sir."

That gets another laugh and Chris just smiles at his boy, so in love with Henry, with everything about him. "You make me so happy," he says, touching Henry's cheek. "I know I keep saying that, but it's true. I don't think I've ever been this happy."

"Nor me," Henry answers, rubbing his cheek against Chris's palm. "I was thinking about it on the plane, how glad I am, in a way, that I was so deeply in the closet. How it means we've had some firsts, like coming out at Citadel, together."

Chris nods. "And getting to be the first man inside you," he says. "I can't imagine you would've waited otherwise."

"How could I forget that?" Henry says, shocked at himself. "One of the most amazing moments of my life."

Chris grins. "Mine too." Leaning in to kiss Henry again, his lips soft and warm. "Having nothing between us. Being the first man ever to fill you, mark you..."

Henry's smile turns sweetly reminiscent. "And now you're the first man to turn my balls into luggage," he murmurs. "God they hurt."

"I'll bet," Chris says, tempted to offer to remove the weights, but he promised he'd keep Henry like this for most of the day and he meant it. "Lie back, and put your legs over my lap," he says. "You should be able to get some relief that way."

Henry groans at the thought of moving, but he murmurs a "yes, Sir" and adds a crooked grin. He moves into position, his shoulders against the arm of the couch, his legs draped over Chris, parted.

"I love having you on display like this," Chris murmurs, sliding one large hand along the inside of Henry's thigh. "Does it feel any better?"

"A little, yeah," Henry says, closing his eyes, relaxing with Chris's touch. "I wasn't complaining, by the way. About them hurting. The pain is good."

"I'm glad to hear it," Chris says, watching Henry, the way the tension drains from his body. "I'd hate to think you weren't enjoying whatever we're doing on some level." His fingers moving higher, teasing between Henry's cheeks.

A flutter of excitement hits Henry at his core and he moan, lips parting, breath coming faster. He spreads his legs wider, lifts up just a bit, giving Chris more room. "Fuck that feels good," he murmurs.

"You're still so open, so wet," Chris says softly, pushing two fingers into Henry.

The push and drag of the entry sends pleasure waves vibrating through Henry. He arches up slowly, his body tensing beautifully with sensation as his belly fills with liquid fire again. He gasps, his head falling back, arms moving over his head to hang over the couch arm.

"Dirty boy," Chris murmurs, working a third finger inside Henry, pushing them deeper, twisting them to rub over that spot.

"Yours," Henry agrees, arching up again, a soft sound of bliss slipping over his tongue. "Oh God thank you, Sir."

"You're welcome," Chris grins, fucking those fingers in and out, every few movements capped with a brush over Henry's prostate before he adds yet another finger, twisting all four into Henry's open hole.

There's just something so decadent about this. About the intimacy of being opened in such a way that parts of him he grew up believing were to be private and _only_ private are visible--at the mercy of--this man who knows him better than anyone ever has. He whimpers softly, fucking himself on Chris's fingers, pushing nearer, wanting more.

"One of these days, I'm going to put my whole hand inside you," Chris says, meeting every downward push of Henry's hips with a thrust of his fingers. Fucking him deeply, so tempted to make good on his words right now.

"God, yes, please Sir. Oh fuck, Chris," Henry pushes out between gritted teeth. "Please?" And there they are again, facing something new and Henry's wondering how he could have worried that he'd done it all before. It's all new with Chris.

"I think you've got enough to handle today," Chris says with a smile, touching the stretcher with his other hand. "But maybe tomorrow. Or next week." He grins, fucking his fingers in and out.

Henry hadn't forgotten about his balls. How could he? Every jolt hurt, but the pain isn't as acute as it had been when they were swinging free. Now it was pain and pleasure equally blended, and he began to groan with the need to come. He shakes his head to clear it and looks blearily at Chris. "Yes, Sir," he manages, trying to remember the rules of the day. Can he ask? He can't remember so he keeps his mouth shut.

Still grinning, Chris leans in, closing his mouth over the head of Henry's cock, sucking lightly in contrast to the roughness of his fingers.

It's all too much for him to hold out against. Henry screams as he comes. What happens for the thirty seconds after he'll never be sure. When he becomes aware again he's still shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Chris swallows every drop, well aware Henry didn't have permission to come. Easing his fingers free when the clench of Henry's body relaxes, he sits back, watching him, waiting to see if his boy comes to the same realization.

Something's wrong. Henry knows it right away but he's not entirely sure what it is. There's a vague sense of dread in his gut, and Chris is staring at him. He struggles up from under the heavy headspace he's in, shifting and murmuring at the pain it causes. Licking his lips, he blinks a few times and draws in a deep breath. It helps clear his head, just enough that he realizes what's just happened. He closes his eyes tightly for a moment; opens his mouth to speak but decides not to compound his error.

"Normally I wouldn't care, to be honest," Chris says softly, laying a hand over Henry's because he needs him to know that he means every word, "but I made a point of saying you weren't to come without permission so this time, I'm not going to let it go. I'm not angry, I'm not disappointed, but I don't want to reward you either."

Henry swallows and nods. He's kicking himself not so much for his body's reaction, but because he'd lost so much of himself that he'd not been able to keep the rules in mind at all. Maybe he's not yet ready for service like this.

"If I remember right from your checklist, you don't like serving as furniture, but it's not a hard limit, right?"

"Yes, Sir," Henry answers, making sure there's no outward sign of the mental flinch. It's a good punishment for him. Gives him plenty of time to think.

"Okay," Chris says, nodding to himself as much as to Henry. "You can spend the next half hour as my footstool."

"Yes, Sir," Henry says quietly. He finds a safe place to plant a hand and push up off of the sofa. He bites back a sharp sound of pain as he drops to his knees, dropping down to all fours and groaning softly. Everything is starting to hurt. A lot.

Chris nods, biting back the good boy on his tongue. He leans back, getting comfortable and puts both feet up on Henry's back, his cock giving a traitorous jerk as a completely unexpected shiver of arousal runs through him.

Henry's already feeling the strain of his hanging cock. He knows that this is going to be one of the longest thirty minutes of his life. He turns his mind inward, rehashing what had led him here. He needs more training. He needs to learn how to do this. It's something Chris wants. That makes it vital to him. He wants to move. He wants to spread his legs wider or shift some of the weight off of his hands but he's a bloody fucking footstool, and footstools don't move.

Chris picks up his newspaper and tries to read but his eyes keep flickering to the clock over the fireplace, counting down the minutes. Obviously if they're going to do more of this, he needs to work on training Henry. It's not something he's ever had to deal with, Citadel taking care of that with every other sub he's ever been with. He blows out a breath and shifts his feet, trying to lighten Henry's load, aware of how much that stretcher must be hurting him at this point.

It's about fifteen minutes in--though Henry has no concept of time--when the full impact of the punishment begins to metaphorically sit heavily on Henry's shoulders. Whenever he'd been pressed into this kind of service before he'd been profoundly bored and he'd never been able to justify paying someone to sit around with their feet on him. This is different. This is him doing penance and paying for his lack of attention to Chris and what he'd demanded of him. Somehow it makes the floor harder on his knees, harder on his hands but mostly harder on his concept of submission and how little he'd truly given up control in his sessions at Citadel. He's struggling, now, not to move at all but he's determined to make Chris proud. To be an absolutely motionless footstool.

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. Chris watches the last few minutes tick down, his newspaper neglected completely. The punishment served, he puts his feet down and leans forward, running a hand over Henry's back. "Good boy," he says. "You did really well with that."

The praise soothes him, but he's got to _move_ and so he arches into Chris's touch and stretches, almost like a dog, though he doesn't really change his position much. "Thank you, Sir," he whispers, feeling like he hasn't talked in ages.

"Kneel up for me and I'll take the stretcher off," Chris says. He's had enough of this for today. He just wants his boy in arms.

He knows better, but Henry's first thought is "I've disappointed him and now we can't play anymore." He puts that thought away, however, and kneels up, stealing a glance at Chris's face just to ground him.

"Hey." Chris puts a finger under Henry's chin, lifting his boy's head for a kiss. "I never said you can't look at me."

Henry's eyes lift slowly, and he finally smiles slightly when they connect. "May I speak freely, Sir?"

Chris nods. "Go ahead."

"To be perfectly honest, Sir, you've spun my head 'round so much that I'm having trouble remembering the rules," Henry says quietly. "That's another first, since we're keeping track," he adds wryly.

Chris grins at that. "Maybe we need to do shorter stretches of this," he says, cupping Henry's balls with one hand while he opens up the stretcher with the other. "Fewer rules. Or more basic rules all the time. So you can get used to them before we do this kind of thing."

The relief is immediate and profound. So fucking profound that tears slip down Henry's cheeks. He licks his lips and takes a few stuttered, deep breaths before he speaks. "But they were pretty basic, weren't they, Sir? I just... honestly don't remember what they all were. I know I wasn't to stand without permission, or come. But I can't remember anything else."

"I don't want you to remember anything else right now," Chris says, setting the stretcher aside and opening his arms to Henry, beckoning him in. "I just want you to come sit with me."

Crawling up and into his arms, Henry doesn't hesitate to curl up as much as he can against him. And then he thinks again and shifts his position until he can open his legs a bit. "Ow," he murmurs.

Chris laughs. "Yeah, you might be sore for a while," he says. "If it gets really uncomfortable, we can put some ice on them - wrapped in a towel," he quickly adds.

That earns a laugh from Henry. He buries his face in Chris's neck and closes his eyes. "So intense. So much more so than when I was with Cit doms, even though they were hurting me worse sometimes."

Chris nods, linking their fingers together. "It's that connection between us. It makes everything that much deeper. I don't think I ever really went beyond the surface with the boys I hired there."

"I never let myself trust enough. I realize that now. Even though they were professionals and I knew they wouldn't injure me, I didn't let them in. You take me places I've never been before."

"I take it that's a good thing?" Chris jokes.

"Oh yeah," Henry says with great emphasis. "Oh. Hell. Yes."

"I love you," Chris murmurs, touching Henry's cheek, still wondering what he ever did to deserve having this man in his life.

"I love you. So, am I supposed to be talking? It's one of the things I can't remember."

Chris smiles. "Of course you're supposed to be talking. I like hearing your voice. I like hearing you beg, the noises you make. I can't imagine ever giving you an order not to talk and if I did, I'd probably back it up with a gag."

"Good. Just making sure. Don't want to screw up again."

"Do you want to work on that?" Chris asks. "On orgasm control? You said you hadn't done a lot of it, and maybe it was too much to ask with how hard I was pushing you already."

It takes Henry a few moments of thought to find the words. "It's not a kink of mine, but it's nowhere near a limit or even a turn-off, really. If it's something that's important to you, yes, I want to work on it. I want to do that for you."

"I think it would make it less likely you'd be spending any more time as my footstool," Chris teases, unable to help himself.

Wherein Henry has his second appalling moment of the day and giggles. Which causes him to snort. Which causes him to burst into silent, shoulder-shaking laughter. He might be a bit endorphin high, yeah.

Chris laughs too, wrapping his arms around Henry and pulling him in even tighter, careful not to touch or jar his balls. "We could do more of that edging you were so fond of," he says, kissing that spot right behind his lover's ear.

Henry draws in another deep breath, the exhale deep in his throat. He's boneless and content and he nods in agreement. "I want to. I want to do it all with you. Everything. I want you to tie me down and lick me all over and I want you to beat so bad I can't walk. I want you to cut me, fist me, fuck me with a police baton, hang me from my wrists and burn me.... I want you to hurt me until I think you're a monster and love me until I convince you you're not."

Stunned, Chris stares at Henry for a long moment then nods, the lump in his throat too hard, too large for him to speak. There's no question he's aroused by Henry's words, by his desires, but the level of trust they speak to simply blows him away. "I want that too," he says finally, softly, nodding again. "All of it."

Henry shakes his head slowly, a kind of physical manifestation of the crack in the dam that's getting bigger. "I'm a drama queen in sheep's clothing." And finally the dam breaks. "I like a healthy dose of adrenaline with my sex, with my life, but I have to admit part of what I want is this... this... _massive amount_ of intimacy." He can't keep the fervor from his tone as he continues. "This feeling that no one in the history of the world has ever given so much, taken so much, shared so much. And pain is so much a part of that, don't you think? That I trust you to tear me apart and take me down and then rebuild me. And I thought I'd never have that because I thought I'd never get beyond familiar strangers with a flogger in their hand."

"I thought I was happy," Chris confesses in turn, taking all of that in. "I thought all I needed were those boys at the club, that I didn't _need_ this," gesturing between them. "That I wasn't missing out. I don't think I realized how lonely I was really was, or not so much lonely, but closed off, like I'd just put the side of me that needed more off to the side and pretended it didn't exist. I can't believe now that I thought I could live like that."

"It really is true, what they say. You can have all the success in the world but if you don't have anyone to share it with it's somehow hollow. Sometimes our phone calls when there's good news just put me over the moon, you know? And hearing your voice definitely makes stupid days on the set easier. It's like... no matter what, someone gets me."

Chris nods. "Every time I even see a text from you, it brightens my day, makes everything seem better, brighter."

"I think about you at the oddest times," Henry says with a grin. "There's a scene where they're leading me down the hallway in cuffs... "

Chris laughs. "That doesn't seem odd to me at all," he teases, kissing Henry.

"Mm, good point," he says with a soft chuff. "You know what I want to do?" he finally murmurs after a moment or two of quiet cuddling. "I want to stuff my aching balls into a pair of tight jeans and go out for a pint."

"What happened to serving me for the rest of the day?" Chris says, but his smile's warm, his voice soft, and it's clear he really couldn't care less.

Henry smiles, his eyes still closed. "Your will, Sir. I was just saying. Honestly, unless ordered, I'm not sure I have the energy to go anywhere."

"Go get dressed and we'll go out, that's an order," Chris says. "We can flop just as easily on the deck at Joe's as here." Although they won't be able to touch, but... he can deal with that for a couple of hours.

Henry gets up immediately, though he groans. Not so much in protest as in weariness and residual pain, though. "Your wish is my command, my beautiful and commanding Sir. May I shower?" It'll hurt, but it'll feel good. "And any dictates as to dress?"

"Go ahead. Hm. Jeans and a nice tight t-shirt," Chris decides. "I'll shower after you. I'd suggest we share the shower but then we'd never get out of here," he adds, grinning up at Henry.

Grinning back, Henry nods. "Very true. You are a wise and observant sadist." He turns and heads toward the shower, already anticipating the delicious agony to which his balls will be subjected.

The shower is quick but thorough, and he makes sure that he preps again. Pulling on his tightest white t-shirt and a pair of worn, butter-soft jeans, he almost yelps as he zips up and tries to adjust his balls to a more comfortable position.

"You okay?" Chris asks, padding naked out of the closet on his way into the shower.

Henry opens his eyes slowly and eases his hand away from his crotch. "I am fabulous," he says rapturously.

Chris grins. "Yes, you are," he says, crooking a finger at Henry.

Now that's an order Henry can get behind. He slides into Chris's space, licking his lips. "Yes, Sir?"

Placing a hand on Henry's hip, Chris pulls him even closer, slowly leaning in to kiss him, mouth soft and warm at first then more possessive, tongue delving between his lips.

Henry groans with pleasure and devotion and just about every positive emotion there is. He melts into Chris, letting him guide, as usual, but there's no passivity, no way. He's giving back with rub of tongue and press of lips.

Cock rising between them, Chris exhales deeply when he finally draws away. "You'd better go sit on the deck or something until I'm ready." Or they're never going to make it out of here.

Henry nods. "Yes, Sir. I'll be the one trying not to squirm."

Chris laughs. "Good. I like you that way," he says, giving Henry one more kiss, a quick one, before he lets go and forces himself into the bathroom, the door closed behind him. God.

Henry's smile might be just a wee bit smug. Or at least it would be if his balls weren't tightening and his own cock swelling. Speaking of swelling... He reaches down to adjust himself again but it's no use, so he settles in to just enjoy the ache.

Chris takes a quick shower, mostly on the cool side, keeping his mind firmly on thoughts of everything and everyone but Henry. Or at least he tries to. But he's never been this happy, never wanted to share this happiness so much with others. He's always kept his personal life just that, personal, but now he's longing to talk to someone, anyone, about how wonderful his lover is. How he's _with_ someone - the most amazing man in the world.

Henry's basking in the sun when Chris comes out of the house, his head back, his lips curled into a peaceful smile. "I love that cologne," he murmurs quietly. "I love you."

"I love you too," Chris murmurs, smiling, one hand on the back of the lounger as he dips down to kiss that perfect smile. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, Sir. Any rules or restrictions for the bar?" Henry asks as he stands, catching his breath at the pull to his balls.

"That's a good question," Chris says. They have rules that cover Citadel, but they've never dealt with any for being in public together. "I want you in sight unless it can't be helped, you ask permission to use the bathroom, and you get our drinks from the bar when there's not a server around."

Henry grins. It takes over his whole face. "Yes, Sir," he answers with just an slight undertone of eagerness.

"Good boy," Chris says, grinning back. He takes Henry's hand and leads him back into the house, locking the doors to the deck behind them and picking up his wallet and keys from the basket by the front door. "And since I won't be able to do this all night, I'll do it now," he says, drawing Henry in close for another kiss.

Kisses. Henry has never loved kisses as much as he does now. He melts into the intimacy, his hands settling on Chris's waist.

"These had better be _fantastic_ wings tonight," Chris murmurs, finally pulling back.

"Well, look at it this way, Sir. If they're not you've got something to punish me for, right?" Henry grins at him and then chuckles at himself for the way his cock responds.

"Right." Chris can't stop grinning. God. "That works," he says, forcing himself to open the door and nudge Henry out, locking up behind them.

A frisson of excitement raises the hair on Henry's arms as he follows Chris to the car. "You know, I've heard about rituals, things that doms and their boys do in public that's not apparent to anyone else. Like games." He climbs in, getting his seat belt fastened before turning slightly to watch Chris get settled.

"Like what?" Chris asks with a smile. He has some ideas of his own but he wants to hear what Henry's got in mind.

Henry shrugs slightly, smiling. "I haven't given it a whole lot of thought, but I did hear about one that sounded cool. We start the night with a promise of something that I like, like a set number of strikes with a paddle. The fun kind of spanking. Then you give me a word and a cue. Every time you give me the cue, I have to work the word into a sentence with someone else. Every time I fail to do it, I get a blow taken away. Something like that. Silly, but it's fun. I like being able to do things you tell me to do without the vanillas realizing it."

"Why don't we do that then?" Chris says. They can save his idea for another night. "Thirty blows with a wooden paddle. Word's fire and the cue's me pulling on my ear."

Henry's quiet for a moment, then he shudders. "Yes, Sir. I like that." If his voice is husky with desire, well, it's really no secret he wants Chris all the time.

"You really are a glutton for punishment, aren't you?" Chris teases, stopping at a red light. "After this morning..."

"This morning was... amazing. Really amazing." Henry looks over at him, watching his face. "If I get pushy, you'll let me know, right? Because sometimes--even though I desperately _want_ to remember--I'm struggling between the mindset that I'm doing things for your pleasure and my own."

"I will," Chris assures Henry, reaching over to give his hand a quick squeeze as the light turns green. "But I think we're doing well so far. I certainly don't have any complaints."

Henry's smile turns wry and he turns his hand to link their fingers. "I think I think too much," he says. "And I think we're doing fantastic."

Chris smiles over at Henry, keeping his hand right where it is for the rest of the drive since it's not far and he knows the road, the traffic surprisingly light. They pull into the parking lot and he finally lets go, shutting down the engine and meeting Henry on the sidewalk in front of the place. "Remember, boy," he murmurs, opening the door for his lover. "Fire and me pulling on my ear."

Henry licks his lips, the "boy" from Chris going straight to his gut and leaving a puddle of hot want. He nods. "Yes, Sir," he says, very low. He'll have to pay special attention. Like he'd normally wouldn't. The thought causes him to chuff silently as they head inside.

It's busy inside and out on the deck but there's a couple just leaving and Chris and Henry snag a table right at the edge, overlooking the water. They're on the far side from the deck bar but with everyone seated Chris has a clear sightline to it and so he nods to Henry. "I'll have a pint of whatever's on tap."

"Yess'r," Henry replies, his voice low but throwing a casual tone into it anyway, in case someone hears. His balls hurt with every step he takes. It's amazing. He's all smiles as it makes his way back, dancing in and among the tables until he sets Chris's beer in front of him and puts his own down on the table across. He gives it a beat, though, before he sits down, just a hint of respect to let Chris know Henry knows his place.

"How's everything feel?" Chris asks, keeping his voice low, his words for them alone. "You don't look like you're in too much pain."

"It hurts," Henry answers. "A few twinges that are worse at times. But mostly it's just good. Have I mentioned I like having secrets from the world?" he says with a chuckle.

"I'll have to keep that in mind," Chris says. "Maybe there's a few thing we could do even when you're filming - that wouldn't throw you off your game," he's quick to clarify.

"I would love that," Henry says, taking a sip of his beer. He thought he'd be more self-conscious, but he's only conscious of the delicious knowledge that Chris does wonderful, terrible things to him and none of these people know.

"Would you?" Chris says, very deliberately tugging on his ear as the waitress comes by to take their order.

"Yeah. I really would." He glances up at the waitress and greets her with a winning smile. This one's going to be easy, really. It's almost too easy. He lets Chris order, and then pretends to glance over the menu again. "Could I have a plate of the hot wings, please, with a side of the fire sauce."

Chris laughs. "That's cheating," he says, but it's obvious he's teasing and he flashes a wide grin at the confused waitress. "I'll have ten wings too. Um. Super hot. And we'll share an order of fries."

Henry watches her go and turns to grin at Chris. "No rule, it's not cheating," he says with a laugh.

Chris just sticks his tongue out and grins. "What if I tell you to go over to those guys," he says, nodding at a group of frat boys obviously enjoying their afternoon on the beach, as evidenced by the four half-empty pitchers on the table in front of them, "and do it."

Henry's eyebrow quirks up and he gives him a teasing smile. "Do what, exactly?" he jokes and then grins widely. "I'd do it, of course. As you told me."

"Go ahead then," Chris says, pulling at his ear again, curious to see how Henry will fare.

A pool of excitement bubbles up in Henry's belly as the challenge is put down, both because of the fun of the game and the fact that he's following orders. He pushes back his chair, giving Chris a wink as he wanders toward the table. "Gentlemen! I can't help but notice that you seem to be on _fire_ tonight with your humor. You've given me a chuckle once or twice and I just wanted to thank you. Are you at university?"

There are identical looks of confusion on every one of the table's occupants, but one of them manages to give a wry "you're welcome."

Another starts to speak, but Henry wanders away. Casually settling back into his seat and taking a sip of his beer.

Chris laughs, delighted. "Nicely done," he says, clinking his glass against Henry's.

"I think they're still trying to figure out why I asked a question and then walked away. If you can't blind them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit," Henry says with a grin. He leans forward, getting close to Chris and lowering his voice. "I should have said something about how my balls are on fire since my lover had them in a vice all afternoon but I figured their heads would explode."

"That's the only problem with being who we are," Chris says, leaning in closer as well. "I would love to make you go up to some stranger and tell them that, but can you imagine? The tabloids would have a field day. Plus it wouldn't be very well-behaved of us, would it?" But the fantasy almost as hot as the reality. "Making you show them when they look confused. Or interested."

Everything brightens for a moment as Henry's eyes flare. "We could do that at Citadel, couldn't we?" he murmurs, his mouth dry.

Chris nods. "There's actually a lot we could do there," he says, amazed at how they both seem to have missed that, so deeply in the closet until the past while, even there, that they've been oblivious to all the things they could do. All the stuff they could pull. All the orders he could give.

Henry glances away because, in that moment, he's quite sure he's giving them away to everyone around them. He gives his head a short shake. "You know, being out in public is fun. I like having a secret. But I'm wondering now why I suggested it when we could have gone there or stayed at home being ourselves."

"Because it doesn't hurt us to be seen out together, doing normal things like having beer and wings," Chris says with a smile. "And as much fun as playing around where we don't have to hold back might be, there's also something to be said for anticipation."

Henry grins at that. "This is very, very true. Plus... wings!"

Chris laughs. "Plus wings," he agrees with a smile, his chest aching when it hits him again, despite his words, that he can't just reach out and touch Henry. Push the curls back from his face and touch his hand. Things every heterosexual couple get to take for granted. "Any idea what you want to do tomorrow?"

"I haven't given it a lot of thought, really. Just... " Their waitress comes by to check on them at that moment, and Henry glances up at her, "Hanging out..." a slightly impish smile crossing his face.

"I was thinking we could take a drive up the coast," Chris says when she disappears again, with the promise they'll have their wings soon. "But hanging out sounds good." His eyes crinkling at their corners.

Henry chuckles, glancing around and leaning back. His jeans tighten and tug at his balls and he gives a short, soft gasp. "Shit," he murmurs, grinning.

Chris leans in close, real close, making sure no one else hears him when he murmurs, "Don't worry. I'll suck on them later and make them feel all better."

"So... how long does this self-imposed torture have to go on?" Henry responds dryly. "Kidding. I'm having fun. Have you noticed the teenager in the corner who can't keep her eyes off you but is trying like crazy not to be noticed?"

"Nope. I was busy keeping my eyes on you," Chris says, but he takes a look now and gives her a warm smile and nod before returning his attention to Henry. "And she was probably looking at you anyway."

"Oh no, that's all Thor that's twinkling in those eyes," Henry shoots back. "Sweet talker," he adds.

Chris laughs. "Only when I mean it," he says, sitting back a little more as their waitress finally comes by with their wings and a basket of fries. "Whenever I stop training for a role, I am so happy to give up eating fifteen chicken breasts a day but wings?" He groans. "Wings rock."

"And broccoli. And brown rice. I used to like broccoli. Not so much now. But yes. Give me wings!" He grins at the fire sauce and pushes it away. "I like to be able to taste the chicken, after all."

Chris laughs more. "Who would ever think that gaining weight for a role would suck so much?"

"It's the holidays. I plan on getting myself into all sorts of trouble. We need to find someone who makes homemade sweets that will sell them to us. The real thing, not the store bought. Will there be a tree? We have to have a tree."

Chris bites his lip at that. "I can bake," he says, colouring just a little. He always feels so weird admitting this. "Not that we can't get other stuff in, but if you want sugar cookies or shortbread or squares, my mum taught me how to make a whole bunch of things. And of course there'll be a tree."

"Oh my God, that's brilliant." Henry's suddenly excited about the holidays, though he's going to miss cold weather. "This will be the first Christmas I've not been somewhere with a nip in the air."

"We could always go up north," Chris says, a twinkle in his eye as he sucks the meat from a wing. "I could find you somewhere with actual snow."

Henry can't help the look of interest that he can feel crossing his face but he tries to tamp it down as much as possible. "No, love," he says, forgetting himself just for a moment, though his voice is still pitched only for Chris. "You deserve time home, sleeping in your own bed."

"When was the last time you had a white Christmas?" Chris asks, undeterred.

Henry considers that for a moment. "The family went to Switzerland a few years back for the holidays. Maybe ten years? But at least in London there's a need for coats and hot cocoa," he points out reasonably, giving him a grin.

"We could go up to Whistler for a few days, have Christmas there," Chris says, tossing a bone in the bucket provided. "We'd still have a week back here before we're off to work again."

"Really?" Henry perks up, much like a kid in a candy store who has just been told it's all free. "You'd be okay with that? I'm still feeling guilty from pulling you from your family for the holiday. Which is probably strange because I don't feel bad for not being with mine," he admits with a grin. "But don't you think it's late to get reservations somewhere?"

"Not if I'm willing to pay for them," Chris responds with a smile. "I'll make a few calls when we get back. Would you be okay with a chalet or do you want a hotel?" A chalet would be easier privacy-wise but a hotel would give them more amenities.

"I'd love a chalet," Henry murmurs. "More privacy, right? Will we be able to get into town, though?"

"I think there's ones you can walk in from," Chris says, finishing off another wing, starting to get pretty pumped about the whole idea. "I've only been the once and it wasn't in winter but it's supposed to be beautiful. They do the whole place up in lights."

Henry's gobbling up wings while Chris talks like he's starving. Leaning forward as he wipes his fingers clean, he lowers his voice more still, making absolutely sure he won't be overheard. "Will you make love to me in the snow?"

Chris grins, eyes crinkling at their corners. He starts to make some smart remark about frozen asses but instead just nods. "Yes."

"I've always loved ice pops," Henry says casually with a grin as he sits back to eat some more.

"You're a wicked one," Chris says, pointing a wing bone at Henry. "Anyone ever tell you that?"

"I've heard it a time or two, I believe. Mostly I've heard non-verbal audio evidence." Giving him a wink, Henry licks the sauce off of his thumb.

Chris's gaze goes straight to Henry's mouth, his groin tightening in response, but he doesn't miss a beat. "Did I know this about you?" he teases.

"You know what? I think you might have. I don't know. I'll make sure you get a front row seat sometime." Another finger licked clean. Probably not the most polite behavior in the world, but he's not making a salacious spectacle of himself or anything.

Chris just shakes his head, eyes sparkling. He looks at Henry for a long moment then tugs on his ear.

Henry's smile breaks into a grin. He sits back in his chair and glances around, noting a table of women trying not to watch them too closely. They're close enough that Henry can be overheard by Chris without having to obviously raise his voice. He catches one looking and gives her a smile and a wink, then turns back to Chris. "Excuse me." Getting up, he heads to the table.

"Ladies? I'm wondering if you can help me out."

There's a fair amount of chatter, then, all three women assuring Henry that they can help... whatever it is. "Well, Chris and I promised that we'd get out of our prospective houses and relax a bit, we've been working so hard. We were hoping one of you could take a picture we can fire off as proof we've done just that." He's tap dancing around in his head a bit to find a way to avoid lying outright, but he finally settles on not mentioning to whom the promise was made. After all, they'd promised each other they'd relax, so that part is certainly true.

Chris grins at that. And here he thought he'd picked a fairly difficult word. He'll have to do better next time. When one of the women takes Henry's cellphone, he wraps his arm around his lover's neck, pulling him close and smiling for the camera. "Thanks," he tells her. "We appreciate it."

There's a quick round of "returning the favor", each of them taking pictures with the women as well, and then they're back at their table. "I suppose next time I should ask before I involve you directly," Henry muses, giving him a grin.

"Hey, if I didn't include it in the rules, it's not one," Chris says with a shrug, grinning back. "And besides, now we have pictures of us out together."

"We do. And I have one of the girls' phone numbers," Henry adds, his eyebrows bouncing up and down a couple of times.

"You dog, you," Chris says, shaking his head. He laughs. Aching for a moment to kiss his lover, to really touch him, right here, right now. But he settles for shoving Henry's shoulder instead. Feigned disgust.

As brief as the contact is, Henry can still feel it burning through him. His smile dies and he locks eyes with Chris, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he deals with the rush of emotion and pure, unadulterated need. "You know what? I don't hurt so much anymore," he says quietly.

"Is that something we should fix?" Chris asks, every bit as softly, mindful of the eyes and ears around them.

"Yeah, if you think that's in your best interest," Henry answers, flashing him teeth. His cock is getting hard, damn it. Maybe if the women notice when he gets up (they will) they'll think it's because of them. It so isn't, and he's forcing himself to look away from Chris before he gives them both away.

"Tell you what," Chris says, glancing at his watch and their empty bowls, the wing bucket filled to the brim. "You've got 5 minutes. I want you to get three in that time," tugging at his ear again. "Manage it and we'll go."

Henry's jaw drops, and then he bursts out in laughter. "You're nuts. Do you have to be able to hear?"

"Nope, but I have to be able to see you and I'll expect accounts," Chris says, adding, his grin reaching all the way to his eyes, "Plus I'll make it worth your while if you succeed."

Glancing down at his watch, Henry marks the time. He wastes no more of it, getting up and heading to the bar again to get his first one in quickly. "It's hot for December, isn't it? Too hot for a fire," he adds. "I'll take a beer, then, please, and one for my friend."

Chris watches the bartender give Henry a bit of a look but hand over two beers. Chuckles to himself. He's quite enjoying this.

Henry swings by the table, setting down both their pints, not even a bit concerned about drinking his. He immediately heads for the nearest server, pausing her in her duties with a gentle, "excuse me." He's close enough, this time, that he thinks Chris might be able to hear him and he lays it on thick, just to tease him. "I wonder if you might have a bandage somewhere in the restaurant. You see, I had a paper cut and I thought it had healed, but apparently some of the sauce has gotten inside. My finger is on _fire_. I'm just headed to rinse it in the loo, but I'd like to cover it, if possible?" He's all sweetness and light, his cock twitching once as he can feel Chris's eyes on him.

That's two and Chris probably should give Henry extra points for creativity if he makes all three, glancing at his watch again. It's going to be close.

Glancing around, Henry's frantically trying to figure out something different for the last leg of the challenge. He could use the "on fire" thing again, but Chris deserves better. Suddenly he sees their waitress walking toward their table the idea pops into his head like a light bulb over it. He slides into his chair, quickly smearing his thumb in chicken wing juice and brushing it over the rim of his glass. He smiles apologetically up at... Mindy? Yes, that's it... as she arrives. "Hello, I hate to be a bother and this is certainly on the other side of a reason to fire someone, but my glass seems to have something on it."

Extending her own apology, she quickly turns, heading back to the bar. "It's a shame they're going to waste that pint," he says, and then cuts his eyes at Chris, grinning.

Chris laughs, head going back. "I'm impressed," he says. "Nice work."

Henry's grin even _feels_ wicked. "So... time for the check?" he asks with a raised brow.

"Definitely." Chris cranes his neck, signalling Mindy when she glances over that they'd like their bill.

Reaching into his back pocket, Henry pulls out his wallet and a hundred dollar bill. "Wanna make her night?"

Chris nods. "But next time I'm paying."

"Deal," Henry says, flashing his smile when Mindy arrives and puts down their bill. "We're ready," he says, closing the check wallet over the large bill.

"Alrighty, then, I'll be right back with your change," Mindy says cheerfully.

"No need, love. You have a good night," Henry answers.

"Thank you, gentlemen. I hope you have a great night, too." She'd caught a glimpse of the money, but wasn't sure she'd seen correctly. Giving them a nod of her head, she turns and heads back inside.

Henry's already standing up.

Chris leads the way back out to their car. "Wood or leather?" he asks, sliding into the driver's seat.

"God my cock is hard," Henry answers, laughing. "Um... wood, please."

It's what he'd told Henry earlier but his boy deserves the choice. "And I suppose you'd like me to let you come tonight?" Chris teases.

"Um... this is the part where I say, 'your will', yes?" Sliding into the car, he grins at Chris. "Which, you know, it is."

"I do," Chris assures him. "But I like to take requests." Grinning back.

"Well, I think that you saying no would be psychologically very sexy and exciting." In fact, Henry can't help but squirm a little. "But I'll sleep better after a really good orgasm." He flashes a grin at Chris and rolls down his window to enjoy the evening breeze.

"I'll take both those under consideration," Chris says with a smile, reaching over to place his hand on Henry's thigh and give it a squeeze, now that he can touch him again.

"Does it ever get old for you?" Henry says out of the blue. "Being in charge?"

Chris thinks about that for a moment then shakes his head. "Not really. But then again, I'm not one of those badass hardcore doms who spends every waking minute keeping his boy under his thumb. I'm pretty laid back about things. At least I think I am," he says, smiling over at Henry. "But sometimes I wonder if I'm too laidback. Would you like me to be stricter, more formal?"

"No. I don't think so. I think we work. Although some rituals might be nice. I kind of think 'playing' at D/s can be fun. The game we played tonight, rituals--and yes, I realize some people would say calling rituals play is sacrilege--little ways that you can exert control here and there without it being so serious."

"Stuff for when you're away from me, even," Chris asks, clarifying, making sure he's understanding Henry completely.

"Yeah," Henry agrees enthusiastically. "I would definitely like that very much."

"Okay. Let me think about it," Chris says, stopping at another red light but at least they're almost home. "Figure out what works for us both."

"No rush," Henry says with a smile, leaning back against the seat and closing his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

 _I certainly hope not,_ Chris thinks, surprised at the pang that shoots through him at those words. At just the thought of Henry not being in his life. Pulling back into his driveway, he cuts the engine and smiles over at his lover. His boy. "We're home."

"Yes, Sir," Henry answers, but he's watching Chris because there's something in his expression that... _Oh!_ He quickly strips out of his shoes, socks and his shirt. "Permission to keep my jeans on until we get inside, Sir?"

Chris grins, pleased Henry obviously remembered the rules he laid out this morning. "Of course."

"Thank you, Sir," Henry says with a smile, climbing out of the car and heading toward the house quickly. He can't wait to be naked, as directed.

Chris follows but not immediately, giving Henry a minute to get completely undressed.

Henry likes this. A lot. The ritual of following a rule once they've come home to safety. He sets his clothes aside and stretches, groaning a bit as his balls swing free between his legs. It has him grinning as he drops down to his knees and waits for Chris.

Coming into his home to find Henry on his knees, waiting hard and naked, steals Chris's breath away. "Good boy," he murmurs, running a hand through Henry's curls before cupping the back of his head and pressing his face against his groin, letting Henry feel _his_ body's response to him.

Henry groans softly, inhales deeply before lightly running his cheek back and forth over the denim covering Chris's rock hard cock. He keeps his form as precise as he can but every inch of him is vibrating with need, now.

"I want you in the bedroom, on your feet, hands braced against the end of the bed." Chris forces the words out, his body wanting satisfaction, Henry's mouth, right now.

"Yes, Sir," Henry answers, blood rushing in his ears and to points south. He turns and crawls to the bedroom quickly, ignoring the bang, bang, bang to his knees. He's on his feet as soon as he reaches the end of the bed. The softness of the duvet is as much a stroke to his senses as Chris's words.

For the most part, Chris has always been with much smaller men. His height, his build has always dictated that and there's been a certain... satisfaction in fucking someone smaller, someone he could easily lift and move and place where he wanted. But now, with Henry, there's something about being with someone who rivals his size and weight. With someone who _chooses_ to submit to him because he _wants_ this. Not because, if push came to shove, he wouldn't have a choice. The thought makes Chris smile as he fetches a wooden paddle from his toy chest and moves behind his boy, running a hand over his bared ass.

Henry moans softly, pushing back into that caress. "Killing me here with anticipation, Sir," Henry says with a chuckle. "Not that I'm complaining," he's quick to add.

"No?" Chris smiles, teasing his fingers between Henry's cheeks.

Henry looses a soft sound of pleasure, rocking back against him. "I would never complain about your methods and desires, Sir. Unless, of course, you told me to," he adds, smothering a smile. His ass involuntary contracts as if his brain has sent it a warning.

"Glad to hear it," Chris murmurs, pushing two fingers inside Henry and crooking them to rub over that bundle of nerves.

The teasing is over--at least the teasing from his end. The smile has slipped from Henry's face as he pushes out a breath and another quiet exclamation. Suddenly he's aware of his position, of the air caressing the inside of his thighs, moving around his free-swinging cock and his sore balls, quickly getting heavier. He rocks gently, his eyes closed as he imagines the picture they make, Chris tall and strong and beautiful behind him, touching him so intimately. "Someday I want to watch," he murmurs, though he's not aware that he's spoken out loud until the words hit the air. 

"In a mirror, or on video?" Chris asks, pressing more firmly, a third finger added, stretching Henry open, wider, before he's stroking over that nub again.

"Video," Henry answers, his breath catching now, speeding up. His hands turn to fists in the covers of the bed and he pushes back suddenly, involuntarily onto Chris's fingers because holy fuck he needs more and--just for that instant--he can't help himself. "Fuck, Sir... _fuck_!"

Chris smiles and pulls his fingers free, wiping them on his jeans. "Yes?" The paddle hefted in his hand, getting ready.

"Just... Sir," Henry groans with a small chuckle, spreading his legs a little wider. "Feels so damn good."

"It'll feel even better after this," Chris promises, eyes crinkling, rubbing the paddle over Henry's ass. "I want you to count for me."

"Yes, Sir," Henry murmurs, shaking his head to clear it so he can focus. He arches his back slightly, lifting his ass in the air and bracing himself. His stomach is tight with delicious tension.

Chris pulls the paddle away and brings it back in, centred across both cheeks, the sound making his cock jerk sharply in his jeans.

Henry jerks forward slightly, the surprise of the first blow drawing a quick cry from him. He groans as it spreads out over his skin, first the sting, then gorgeous heat. "One!" he offers up, lifting his ass again for more.

Chris barely bites back a groan of his own. Thirty strikes, one in, and already he wants to fuck his boy. Just drop the paddle and sink himself deep into that tight hole. That hole that's never had any man inside it but him. Fuck. But this is Henry's reward. Fair-won and well-deserved. He brings the paddle in again, the same strength behind it.

Henry shouts out, mostly because he can, overdoing it a bit just to be playful. He doesn't forget to count, though, and he closes his eyes as the sharper pain again begins to ease back.

Chris pops Henry again, right cheek and then left, just enough time left between for Henry's counts. Six in. Same strength as the first, Henry's ass pinkening up nicely. "That was your warm-up," he tells him, his cock straining against the front of his jeans. "Ready for more, boy?"

"God, yes, Sir," he answers with a grin. "Remind me I was so enthusiastic around blow twenty-five, yeah?"

"Oh, believe me, I will," Chris says with a laugh. "I'll remind you tomorrow as well," he adds with a grin, bringing the paddle in again, harder than before. Slowly ramping up the strength as he delivers blows centre, left, right and again, making sure Henry has time to count. His gaze almost locked on that skin, on that bright red slowly deepening.

It gets both harder and easier each time the unyielding wood lands against his skin. The initial shock takes his breath away, over and over, but the resulting wash of chemicals is beautiful in its wake. As his brain gets fuzzier, his counting gets sketchy, but he works hard at keeping his numbers in order. Still--by blow twenty-five, just as he'd anticipated--he's working through tears of pain, the cotton-headed blur of pleasure, and his desire for Chris to get things right. It takes him a few seconds longer to get out the "twenty", and he stammers over the "five".

"You're doing well," Chris tells him, pausing for a moment before the next. "Good boy. Five more." Drawing the next two out a little longer, more room left between them for Henry to get the words out.

Twenty-six and seven are a little rush, but then something breaks and a wide grin spreads over Henry's cheeks. He sounds doped and dreamy when he counts out twenty-eight, twenty-nine and thirty, his body barely moving, relaxing as fully as possible while retaining his posture. "Thank you, Sir," he pants softly, the words slurred and thick.

"You're welcome," Chris replies, the paddle set aside, his hands run over Henry's ass again, the skin burning hot to the touch, the bruises already rising to the surface. "God. You're such a good boy for me," he murmurs, using one hand to unzip his jeans and push them down to where he can step out of them. His cock aching, so grateful that prepping is one of Henry's rules, because there's not a chance he could wait right now. Could take the time to prep him properly and not just spread his cheeks, head nudging at his hole, and push in, like he does now, a rough groan spilling from his mouth.

Henry whimpers softly at the invasion, sucking in a breath and pushing back taking more. Needing more. He spreads his legs wider still and shudders as Chris sinks deeper, whispering nonsense that he couldn't decipher or translate if he tried.

The heat, the sheer heat, both inside and out, is incredible. Chris runs his hands over Henry's ass, digging his nails into his boy's flesh, his cock fed into his hole, inch by inch, fraction by fraction, until he's all the way in, hips rocking against Henry's ass.

Tiny sparks of pain flash through Henry each time Chris moves against his burning ass. It sends him further down the proverbial rabbit hole with every push forward and he keens quietly as the sensation builds.

Biting at his lower lip, pleasure steadily peaking higher and higher, Chris drives in harder, faster, unable to pull back or slow down.

There's pain and pleasure coming from everywhere: from the banging against his reddened ass, from the vigorous swinging of his balls each time Chris shoves forward, to the angle just right, hard cock raking hard over his sweet spot. Henry isn't even thinking about coming now, he's just working on breathing and moving with Chris as well as he can... and enjoying the buzz of white noise in his ears.

"Oh god," Chris breathes, suddenly so close he's hanging on the slimmest thread. He slides a hand under them, wrapping it around Henry's cock and jerks him off with his thrusts. "I want you with me, boy."

"God, yes, Sir!" Henry answers, jerking with the new stimuli and suddenly very, very close himself.

That's it. Chris is done for. Going over the edge with a shout as he slams himself in as hard as he can, hand working Henry's cock roughly, _demanding_ his boy's release.

It's a good thing he has permission. Henry's fairly certain he'd be coming with or without it. He matches Chris's shout, shooting all over his Sir's hand and shuddering with pleasure and pleasurable exhaustion.

Chris blows out a breath, hand and body stilling. "Good boy," he murmurs, licking his lips, aftershocks still rippling through his system.

"Thank you, Sir," Henry manages between huffs of breath. He's exhausted, sweaty, and aching... but he feels brilliant. "I'm done," he says with a dopey smile. At least he hopes he is. Chris might have other ideas.

"Me too," Chris confesses, smiling, easing out as gently as he can. "Bed," he orders, pushing Henry forward.

Henry makes a happy, appreciative sound as he climbs up the bed with his last bit of energy. Flopping down on his stomach, he fights the need to close his eyes immediately.

Chris follows, dropping down beside Henry, arm and one leg thrown over his boy, pulling him in closer. "Love you," he whispers.

"Love you," Henry murmurs, nuzzling against him and moving closer still, smiling. Henry had never felt the need to cling to someone else before to feel comforted and safe, but Chris gives him a peace he never new he missed. He sighs softly, the aches in his body actually helping him relax.


End file.
